


Sleep

by Mersheeple



Series: Hearts&Cauldrons Snail Mail (Covid19) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24995929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersheeple/pseuds/Mersheeple
Summary: The first in a collection of Snail Mail stories that prove that I have no idea what a Drabble is...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: Hearts&Cauldrons Snail Mail (Covid19) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809469
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36
Collections: Hearts & Cauldrons Snail Mail Exchange





	Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turtle_wexler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_wexler/gifts).



> These stories are Snail Mail stories that were written based on a one word prompt during Covid-19 Quarantine...

Next to Polyjuice Potion, Sleeping Draught was simple. Only four basic ingredients, none of which were watched at all. 4 sprigs of Lavender. 4 sprigs of Valerian. 6 measures of Standard Ingredient. 2 blobs of Flobberworm Mucus. Simple. Non-addictive. Safe.

She had started taking it regularly in third year, using it to help her sleep deeply for the short amount of time that she wasn’t studying or in class or, heaven forbid, saving Sirius Black and Buckbeak from certain death. It was non-addictive but she made enough of it to get her through the holidays just in case. Or at least, she thought she had. Must have miscalculated. She barely slept the last two weeks of the holiday before fourth year. Probably miscalculated. Just a mistake.

Dreamless Sleep was more complicated than the Sleeping Draught but it helped after fifth year. After dealing with Umbridge. After losing Sirius. After Dolohov. After everything in fifth year, Dreamless Sleep helped. There was no wand work needed. She was able to brew the potion at home without alerting the Ministry or her parents to her magic usage.

She calculated perfectly how much she needed to sleep a full night. It helped. Every night, just a small vial, it got her six full hours of sleep. It was mildly addictive but she only took it three nights a week. Four nights a week when the nightmares got bad. Five nights a week when she was back at Hogwarts and the memories crept back in. Seven nights a week after what happened to Albus Dumbledore. Seven nights a week. But she was not addicted.

They were on the run and she couldn’t sleep and nothing felt right and she broke down and sobbed at the enormity of everything. And then Ron left and they took shifts wearing the necklace. She couldn’t sleep when she wore it. She couldn’t sleep when she didn’t wear it. She had no ingredients to make the potion. She just had to get through one night. Two nights. Five nights and it would be out of her system wouldn’t it?

She was not addicted. She just wasn’t.

And then the War ended and Professor Snape was a hero and… and he slept. Locked into a coma, slowly draining his life force from him as the venom burned through him.

And she was jealous. He slept. She could not.

She tried the Dreamless Sleep again. It was not enough anymore. The nightmares crept in. Real, solid memories. The last time she had seen Lupin and Tonks, holding hands, together in death. The last time she had seen Fred, smiling and joking, no fear in his face until she looked in his eyes. The attack on Him.

The what ifs. What if he never came round? What if he didn’t survive? What if he slept because there was nothing left to stay awake for? What if he stayed asleep and she never spoke to him again? What if she just…slept?

She started brewing the potion again. They had brewed it in Sixth year and she had not had Snape’s book. This time, she would make the tweaks she could remember. This time the potion would work. Draught of Living Death. Then she could finally sleep. For as long as she needed. As long as she wanted.

She found a spell, a vague reference to Morpheus, in the back of a charms book she had found in the Hogwarts library. It would allow her to sleep until someone found her in the Dream Realm. It seemed simple enough. She would stay asleep, undreaming, unmoving, unknowing, unfeeling for as long as it took for someone to notice she was missing, find her, find the correct spell, create the right potion…yes, she would stay asleep for a long time, catching up on the sleep she had missed. No one would miss her and that was absolutely fine.

The potion was made, the charm was cast, the dream realm awaited. She found where she felt safe. Strange that it should be his house. Snape’s house. She curled up on the small bed that smelled of him; herbs, old books and spearmint toothpaste surrounded her and she inhaled deeply, drinking the potion in one sip. The vial fell from her hand and she stopped moving, finally at rest.

The dream realm was cold, barren. She found it clinical. She thought about a library, her preferred safe space, and it appeared around her, embracing her like an old friend. She picked a book from the shelf and smiled at it like it was a child. Hogwarts; A History. Of course it would be in her library. She sat in the old looking wing back chair smiling to herself as she opened the book she had read a thousand times.

“Tea?”

The voice made her jump and she looked up, nearly dropping the book in her surprise. Professor Snape stood in his teaching robes, as put together as he ever was, carrying an old beat up tray with two mugs and a teapot that she recognised from her parents house. A second wing back had appeared at some point and she took a breath.

“Join me Professor?” She gestured to the chair and he raised his eyebrow, as he always did. She nodded softly and he placed the tea tray onto the table that she would have sworn was not there a moment before. But this was the Dream Realm. Strange things were bound to happen. Like Severus Snape pouring her tea and sitting with her in a library. She took the mug he offered her and sipped. It was warm and perfectly brewed and…just generally perfect.

They sat in silence, just reading, and sipping at the never ending tea. It never got cold, it never burned her mouth, it never ran out. This dream realm was perfect. Even with her strange company. He coughed once and she looked up to see him looking at her. His eyes flicked back down to his book and his ears went pink, the only sign that he was aware of her scrutiny. She felt the need to ask a question. It was pressing at her chest and her head and she wanted to hold it back, refusing to break the peace but it would not be held in.

“What are you reading Professor?” That wasn’t what she had meant to ask. She wanted to ask him what he was doing in her Dream Realm.

“Shakespeare’s Macbeth.” He seemed surprised that he had answered her and she wondered if the same compulsion to speak that she had felt had come over him.

“I’ve read most of Shakespeare’s plays but that one always annoyed me. The Three Witches.” She shook her head, annoyed with herself. Shut up woman! He doesn’t care.

“This is the only one I’ve read. It was the only book Mam had in the house that Da didn’t try to burn for kindling.” He glared at the fireplace that had definitely only just appeared and she knew then that there was a compulsion to talk and he didn’t like it any more than she did.

“Are you hungry?” Again, not what she wanted to say.

“I could eat.” A soft pop sounded from the direction of the table and they both looked. Two plates of Spaghetti Bolognese and two glasses of red wine had appeared in front of them.

“My favourite.” They spoke in unison and she smiled at him shyly as he nodded tightly, leaning forward to pick up his plate. He stopped and, almost as if Imperiused, he stood up, unbuttoning his frock coat and removing his cravat to hang them on a coat stand that had appeared. His shirt, crisp and white, was far more form fitting than she had expected and she eyed him appreciatively. He turned and caught her looking as he picked up his plate of spaghetti and she blushed, looking at her lap to start eating the tangy, rich tomato sauce and the perfectly cooked pasta.

“Bugger it!” His words broke the silence and she giggled in surprise, unused to hearing him curse, however mildly. She turned to look at him and he grimaced, the stain on his shirt showing what had caused his mild ire. She couldn’t help herself. She giggled again, the laughter turning into full blown snorts as he raised his eyebrow imperiously and attempted to glare at her. Her shoulders shook and tears streamed from her eyes as she could no longer control herself. She heard him growl and then felt a strange sticky splat as he flicked some spaghetti at her, hitting her squarely on the cheek before it slid to land on her shirt directly on her breast.

“Did you really just do that?” She squawked in righteous indignation and he began to laugh, nodding as she glared at him. She flicked her own spaghetti at him and it was a direct shot, straight to his face. One piece partially hung over his hooked nose while the rest fell to his lap and his trousers. His laughter stopped and he gave her a wicked grin.

“Run little girl.” His voice growled and she shrieked with laughter throwing her plate to the ground and squealing as he began to chase her outside, his own plate still in his hand. She ran out of the door and into a kitchen she did not recognise before she made it to the hallway, running upstairs, desperate to find a room to hide in. She dived into a room and realised she was in his house, in his bedroom. The whole house suddenly felt familiar and she took a breath, looking around wildly for somewhere to hide. She was cornered.

“Tut tut little girl. You’re playing with fire…” He grinned wickedly at her and she squealed, still giggling, pressing herself backwards into the corner of the room. He advanced on her and picked up a large handful of the spaghetti, pinning her against the wall with his body as he wiped the spaghetti over her face, causing her to splutter, before he let the slimy pasta and sauce drip down inside her top and into her bra. She shrieked in disgust, glaring at him as his eyes twinkled and he laughed at her.

With a smirk, she grabbed the last of the pasta from his plate and smeared it over his chest and into his trousers, not even caring if it went into his underwear. His eyes darkened and she laughed softly. He dropped the plate, knowing it would not break. Quick as a flash he pinned her hands above her with his and dropped a searing kiss on her lips. She moaned into the kiss and he gentled, softening his lips, slowing the kiss, his tongue darting out to touch hers as her lips parted. She whimpered softly as he leaned into her before he groaned in disgust and pulled away.

“I need a shower.” He turned to walk away and she felt bereft, lost entirely as to what to say next. The compulsion was gone. He walked out the door and over to the bathroom that she knew was directly opposite the bedroom she currently stood in.

“Hermione? Are you going to join me?” His voice seemed to echo around her and she frowned. When had she laid on the bed? She looked down at herself and saw the smear of Bolognese sauce on the shirt she fell asleep in. She leapt out of bed when she realised she could still hear the shower running. She entered the bathroom and noticed the shadow behind the shower curtain.

“Are you going to join me sleepyhead? I feel like I’ve been asleep for weeks. I was waiting for you in that library…” Severus Snape, naked as the day he was born, smiled at her from the shower, the scars on his neck the only proof she needed that she was awake.

Finally, blessedly awake.


End file.
